In the three weeks I was gone, Mom was quite the busy bee and blessed me with a pretty significant change in my bedroom: a new desk nook and a new bed.
Note the narrow camp mattresses that I had been sleeping on…
And now see the real life honest-to-goodness mattress, complete with a lamp for late night reading:
(The following is part of an e-mail from the past, composed on Friday, July 28, 2006, and sent via FutureMe.org)
Well, I decided to do this just a year in advance. Things change so quickly…but I hope things haven’t changed too much.
[mushy personal stuff]
How’s school? I’m about to start my “senior” year. I hope you still like
Anthropology. If not, I/you/we are screwed. I hope you’ve come to some sort of
resolution about going back to Africa.
I thought about writing a list of things I’d like to see accomplished by next year. But you and I both know that the important things can’t be quantified in a list. Keep recycling. Find ways to be an activist. Love everyone. Keep the faith. Remember the greatest commandment. Nurture your artistic side and develop your photographic skills. And please tell me you’ve gotten around to scrapbooking and, at the very least, hung some pictures on your bedroom walls. Procrastinating may be your forte, but enough is enough.
I’m listening to Fiona Apple right now. You’d better still like Fiona Apple.
~ me
p.s. e-mail your 23 year old self, please. It’s better than a time capsule.
There was, of course, the constant change of environment. And while living in an RV or tent or cabin presents a new array of challenges, they are just that: challenges. Maybe after a while, they wouldn’t be so appealing. But in the moment, stripped of the usual comforts, every day was a new adventure.
I miss the company. I’m an introvert and need time alone like I need air, but still, I love people. I love forging new friendships. I love that in the hardest of times, we could still rally together.
There were things I missed about home…
Hugs. I missed hugs. To go from a family that prizes physical affection, from friends that greet you with a hug, to people who barely know you well enough to share a seat…that was hard.
I missed being around people of faith. To be honest, there are things about the stripped down simplicity of road life that causes spiritual discipline to come easily. Less distractions, for one. And those little roadbumps (if you’ll excuse the pun) that send you to your knees. I was the only ‘religious’ person on the trip. Not to say that my travelmates were antagonistic; in fact, all I received were a few curious questions, and perhaps more consideration when matters of religion arose.
But respect and support are not at all the same thing. I had no one to talk to or confide in, no one to seek out for spiritual guidance. It’s not just me, Jesus and my Bible. I missed community. I missed friends and family that wouldn’t just laugh with me, but pray with me.
And I missed my pets.
